Archive for October, 2010

I don’t know what’s the fucking deal with the ladies nowadays. Just the other day, I saw some clerk in the office sporting 10 fingers full of hideous fingernails. I think they’re called pedicures or something. The lady that I saw, had her fingernails grown long, trimmed in rectangular shape, painted blue and emblazoned with some pink stripes. And there were also fake diamonds embedded on each of them (I think they were super-glued on). I was kinda dealing with her about some work stuff, and throughout the short conversation I had with her, I couldn’t concentrate at all, but to only think how fucking hard I’m going to punch her if she ever touches me with that set of fingernails.

I don’t understand why would anyone do anything like that to their fingernails. I mean, it’s generally ok to file or keep one’s fingernails clean, but this is definitely overdoing it. That set of fingernails weren’t pleasant looking at all. Come to think of it, it kinda reminds me of the fingernails on most she-males (ah kua) I saw at Thailand. So, if this is all about enhancing her looks, then this must have failed so miserably. Also, not to mention that the long fingernails are likely going to hinder her typing speed too. Like, if she could type 100 words an hour, she’s probably going to only make 90 with those hideous nails. That’s 10% reduced efficiency, probably more. I was thinking, how ironic this is – here we engineers are pressured hard to cut all corners to improve efficiency by the digits, and this lady here could just easily reverse everything by having a stupid pedicure.

And then there’s also the hazard factor. The nail polish could be unsafe for use. I mean, how do we know if the shop that does the pedicure uses some cheap contraband nail polish imported from China that contains poisonous heavy metal like lead (widely used as coloring elements)? People will do anything to save costs. The lead (Pb) could be easily absorbed through the nail groove when it is wet. When dry, it could just be chafed off the surface in the form of microscopic dust when she scratches her worn out beef jerky-ish poontang, and the Pb dust goes into her reproductive system from the bottom up. And we all know Pb poisoning could retard a person’s IQ… so that kinda explains why there are so many blur bitches in our office. To summarize, it is expensive, high risk, kills efficiency and downright ugly. So, why the fuck do they still do it?

I received a phone call from an unknown number when I was in a meeting. I rejected the call with a text message:

In a meeting, who is this?

Guess what did the guy answer?

I would like to ask about housing loan.

Get this straight, I asked the guy who he is, and he answered me he wanted to ask me about ‘housing loan’. So I tried again with another text, this time, with a more direct message (coincidentally, I just had some mortgage stuff going on, and feared that the caller might be from the bank),

Who are you? Do I know you?

Again, the guy answered my text with something irrelevant

Is mr tan xxx xxxxx introduce u to me!coz i going to buy new house thus i want to know ur Hong Leong BLR rate

I wanted to answer him that the Hong Leong BLR rate equals to cheebye minus lancheow plus lamphar, but I changed my mind after giving a thought about him having my number and all. So I replied courteously.

You got the wrong number. I’m an engineer. Not a mortgage officer.

Man, what a fucking dumbass. This is fast becoming a disturbing trend – I’ve noticed that a lot of people nowadays do not seem to know how to answer a question straight. Ask yourself, how many times have you asked a co-worker or a fast food operator something, and that person goes on to elaborate about something that is totally irrelevant?

Example:
Q: “Do you have the roadmap for this project?”
Dumbass answer: “I already called a meeting with the client, bla bla bla, and I have gotten their agreement bla bla bla….” [goes on for the next 1.5 minutes without a confirmation]

The only possible valid answer for the question above is obviously either a ‘Yes’, or a ‘No’, and perhaps after that, specify where the hell is the roadmap, or why don’t you fucking have it yet. But many a times, people would just drift to another world with their stupid ass answer. This is just so annoying.

You know, people often say certain songs remind you of your certain past. Very true for me, eg. :
– whenever I hear Enigma’s ‘Beyond The Invisible’, I will think of the night I first hold my wife’s (girlfriend then) hand on a beach…
– whenever I hear The New Radicals’ ‘You Get What You Give’, I will think of the day I got my first car…
– whenever I hear The Beatles’ ‘The Sun King’ in their Abbey Road’s medley, I will think of the day I became jobless…

But the other day, a song called ‘Lambada’ came on air on the radio, and it immediately reminded me of my neighbor’s son (about my age) back in my ghetto-ish neighborhood when I was a kid. I didn’t know him very well, but I remember us hanging out a few times with some other kids before. I don’t even know his name till this day, just called him ‘the midget’s son’. Why ‘the midget’s son’? Well, his parents were midgets and the family ran a convenient store nearby (and my mom knew his midget mom very well so…), and the name just stuck – the midget’s son.

Then my family moved away from the slum neighborhood around 1989, so I totally lost my contact with all my childhood ‘friends’. It wasn’t until 1994 when I stumbled into the midget’s son riding a Honda cub 70cc motorcycle, near where I was living. His bike was an eyesore. It was cosmetically heavily modified – you know, chromed balancers, sawed off chain box, souped up absorbers, chromed everything, horsepower increasing stickers, noisy exhaust pipe, just a lot of noise without substance. But the most fucked up thing of all was when he braked that piece of junk, the whole bike would light up like it was trying to communicate with some extra terrestrial civilization from the outer fucking space, and at the very same time, the ‘Lambada’ song would blare out from its giant electronic buzzer – and that was how the song kinda latched on to my memory, partly linking him with it.

Then he was unseen again until about a couple years later, when I saw him speeding in a red Yamaha Sports 100cc – which was a more powerful bike, also the same bike I had – and I thought to myself, he finally got some sense and taste into him. But about a few days later, my mom broke a rather shocking news to me, “Hey, you remember that midget’s son? He got into an accident and he’s in a coma now.” And then I went “Wtf I just saw him a couple days ago!” (like it wouldn’t have happened if I have seen him, duh). And what’s even more bizarre, he actually hit an old lady who lived behind our house (at the new residence). So the situation was like, my ex neighbor hit my new neighbor, and both of them went into coma. Then came the shocker – the old lady died, and midget’s son followed a week later, without ever regaining consciousness. According to my mom, the midget’s son had a row with his midget parents just a couple months earlier, for not buying him this ‘more powerful bike’. He wanted the bike so bad that he threw his tantrum by kicking things around the house (like a spoilt brat). Not wanting to see their son being so stucked up in the ass, the midget couple eventually relented and bought him the bike. Big mistake. He’s dead now.

During his wake, I quietly rode my Yamaha Sports 100cc to the funeral parlor at night to pay him the last respect, and I saw his brother folding some joss paper for him, probably for bribing some hell officers to let him ride a ghost bike in the underworld. Then I said to myself, “Man I can’t fucking believe the midget’s son is dead…”. It’s always like that when someone my age dies.

His blood still taints the yellow box paint at the accident site intersection till this day. Kinda seeped into it. So, whenever ‘Lambada’ plays, instead of thinking of sweaty seductive Latino chicks grinding my drunken cock in a dance bar somewhere, I’ll think of the midget’s son, his stupid bike, his tragic accident, and this creepy ass blood stain.

It was a blackout, and I was sitting with my 4 year old daughter in the candlelit living room. It was getting stuffy so I offered to take her out

Me: “Let’s go to the mall.”

Regine: “No I don’t want to.”

She wanted to stay at home playing with a board game.

Me: “But it’s so hot in here!”

Regine: “I can always bathe maa.”

Me: “Your mommy wants you to bathe with only warm water, and the heater is not working right now (blackout). So you can’t bathe.”

She then cogitated for a short while, turned to look at me and said this,

Regine: “I have an idea.”

Me: “What is it?”

Regine: “Just boil some water with a kettle, and mix it with cold water, then you’d get warm water.”

I was of course, totally dumbfucked. She was right! I can’t help but think, here I am, a guy who is able to troubleshoot an electronic failure and stuff, but couldn’t think of a way to make water warm without electricity. I was totally pwned by a 4 year old!

We are the research team from UiTM Shah Alam, and currently we are conducting a study on Investigating Attraction Factors to Join Affiliate Program by Website Owner .
The objective of the study is to Investigating Attraction Factors to Join Affiliate Program by Website Owner .

We would appreciate it if you could spend few minute to
complete this questionnaire.

Please be informed that all of the information provided by you will be treated wise strict confidence and will be used for the purpose of this study way.

Follow this link : XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thank you for your cooperation.

I mean,
– “to Investigating”?…
– “spend few minute”?…
– “information provided by you will be treated wise strict confidence”?…
– and note the email time, it’s future dated. (can’t even get the time right)

Really??

Damn, don’t you think his English is too suck ass to be of university level?
If they’re really from UiTM, I think the team does not need to conduct research. They need English classes.